In My Dying Breath
by omnomswritings
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Fortunato felt in Edgar Allan Poe's short, "The Cask of Amontillado?"


Cold terror gripped my heart as the last brick went up. The room I was chained in plunged into darkness. I screamed curses upon Montresor!

"Damn you, Montresor! Damn you to hell!" I cried out to the emptiness. Nothing but the reverberation of my voice returned to me. I went limp within my bonds. The cuff around my waist dug into my skin. This is how it was to end, was it? My wife and kids would no longer see me and I would die in the gloom. My mind flashed back to the carnival that still was happening above my tomb…

I sat, drinking a glass of wine. Around me, dancers and troubadours preformed fantastic acrobatics. I took a swig of my wine. As the cool liquid traveled down my throat I saw a man approach my table. My conical cap rang with merriment as I stood up to greet him. This man was Montresor, a friend of mine. Ignoring formalities, he went straight to the point. He told me that he had purchased a cask of amontillado! Oh, what a wonderful wine that is! The perfect texture and taste mixed together to create a most intoxicating, yet delectable, beverage. Shock must have registered upon my face at his announcement of his acquisition for he again told me. As he said this, Montresor looked around at the table, seeing that I appeared to be occupied he looked abashed, telling us that he wouldn't impose and head over to Luchesi. Outrage filled my mind. Luchesi was an incompetent fool, thinking that he could tell amontillado from sherry.

"Bah," I said, snorting.

Taking Montresor by his arm, I almost dragged him to his own estate. In retrospect, it was I who pushed to continue to his cellars – if only I had stayed with my family. That Montresor certainly was a sneaky bastard. Walking along the brightly lit streets of our Italian town, we journeyed to Montresor's. Upon arriving, I noticed immediately that there were none of his servants around. I disregarded this, a hint I should have taken yet my drunken mind told me otherwise. The house was dark expect for a few flambeaux that were strew randomly throughout the house, giving it an eerie atmosphere….

I struggled against my chains. Tears coursing down my now damp cheeks. The coldness gnawed at my flesh. I shivered. A loud thump and a few high pitch crackles could be made out from above me. I was surprised to be able to hear the fireworks from such a depressed location. The thought of those bursting lights gave me just the smallest glimmer of hope. The air had seemed to grow thinner; my lungs were pushed to draw in the oxygen I needed to survive. Was I to suffocate instead of dying from dehydration? Here I stood, in a wine cellar with no wine to wet my lips and give me joy in my demise. Wine – that had got me here in the first place…

Montresor's wine cellars and catacombs were cool and damp: the perfect spot to keep the most precious wines. The other helped me down the stairs for I was still a bit fuzzy from my drinking. A fit of coughs blasted from my mouth. Montresor looked at me with what appeared to be concern. He urged that I head back up to the warmer air and that he would just find Luchesi. No, that amontillado was a much greater prize. We continued our trip within the catacombs. Bones and corpses wrapped in linen surrounded me. Besides the gruesome dead, casks and bottles of wine could be seen. My flambeaux flickered. Our shadows clung to the wall, distorted by the two sources of light giving them grotesque appearances. As another coughing fit wracked my body, Montresor offered me some Médoc. I quaffed the bottle and threw it up in the air. I made a gesture symbolizing I was in the brotherhood of the Freemasons. Montresor looked confused. He wasn't in the brotherhood, then. I had to explain to Montresor what it was. Jesting, Montresor pulled out a trowel – the main tool of a stonemason…

A bitter laughed escaped my mouth. Such irony! He truly was a mason, a stonemason to be exact! The cruelty of his past deeds struck me. Even after he had toasted to my long life, he smiled knowingly. He knew how my life was to end. Tragic! I would be lost beneath these walls for the time of eternity! My bones were to sag in these chains, a telltale of where the once proud Fortunato stood dying. I spat on the floor, cursing the Montresor name.

"I hope my soul haunts you!" I screamed. "I hope my screams always echo in your ears!"

I stood up straight. The cuff cutting into my side had become unbearable. I stared at the new brick wall. How perfect had the opening looked when I had walked in…

The doorway was of a wonderful height, I mused as I stumbled into the room with Montresor behind me. I walked to the farthest reaches of the room. The granite wall halted my progress. I stood there, confused. Where was the amontillado? Had Montresor lied to me? No, why would he do that? Such a being of noble birth wouldn't do that to his friend. As I stood there in bewilderment, Montresor chained me against the wall I had been staring at. He turned me around. Digging through a pile of bones, he uncovered brick and mortar. Hauling the bricks and then the mortar outside the doorway, Montresor pulled out the trowel. Grim realization dawned on me and the effects of alcohol seemed to vanish instantly at the impending doom. I struggled against the chains. Montresor calmly laid the first tier. I stood there, horror and astonishment etched on my face. The fourth, then sixth tiers were laid. Soon the eighth tier had been placed. I could just see my murders face and shoulders. He put his flambeaux into the room. I had had enough. A shrill, ungodly screamed exploded from me, like it had emerged from the very depths of my soul. The sound chilled me and, it seemed, Montresor also to the bone. Was the human being truly capable of such a sound? A clearly shaken Montresor finished the wall. Just as he was about to put the finishing brick in, I tried to talk to him. I laughed as this was all a jest. I tried to get him to change his mind. In cold-blood, Montresor put the final brick in, sealing my grave.

My tears were dried up. What came out of me were now broken sobs. I don't know how much time passed between my final entombment and were I was now. No longer did the sounds of the carnival reach my dying ears. The air was still growing thinner with every shallow breath I took in. I gave up hope. There was nothing that I could do. The darkness did little to lift my fading spirit. My arms grew weak. I slumped forward, ignoring the ache in my sides as I did so. My waist must have be torn open from the metal encasing, because warm blood flowed from the new wounds. I didn't care. My chest seemed hollow and empty. No longer did life matter to me. I was trapped down here. How could I hurry my death? Thoughts of suicide passed through my mind. I couldn't quicken my time of passing on this damn planet could I? I closed me eyes, wishing the inevitable to hurry up and get here. I must have fallen asleep, wishing myself dead, because darkness surrounded me yet I did not die. Yet, after what seemed like but an instant, I was awake. Nothing entered my lungs. I was suffocating. Out of instinct, I brought my hand to my throat. There was no air left. I was to die like this. I stopped and brought my hands away from my throat. A smile somehow brought itself to my face. My mind must have broken. A haunted laughter rang forth.

"A fine jest, Montresor. Yes, a fine jest indeed," my voice rang out.

Still my laughter continued to go and disturb the silence that had accompanied me. I could sense Death close to me. I welcomed it with open arms.

"Welcome, have you come to spirit me away? Yes, good! Off we go, shall we?"

It almost seemed as if Death paused to look at me like one does at a freak show.

"Hurry up! I'm _dying_ to be off!"

Death seemed to close its eyes and it embraced me reluctantly. The pitch black around me faded, if that was possible. Slowly, I could feel my lungs gasping for air. They shriveled, getting smaller and smaller. A tiny bit of air escaped by dying lips. I looked around in the darkness, the vignette closing in further. A good, final sleep was all I needed.

* * *

><p>Montresor walked down the stairs to his cellar. A year had passed and carnival was up once again, Lent being just around the corner! How exciting! As Montresor reached for a bottle of Médoc, he could have sworn he heard a ghostly laughter coming from the deep recesses of the catacombs…<p>

"A fine jest, Montresor. Yes, a fine jest indeed…."


End file.
